


Part of the Crowd

by Small_Hobbit



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:16:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26917972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: Watson having described the procession of faces as being eerie and ghost-like, discovers he has become a part of this ghostly crowd.  Can Holmes do anything?
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Comments: 34
Kudos: 19





	1. From the Light into Gloom

**Author's Note:**

> Written for DW's Watson's Woes Spooktacular
> 
> The initial quote is from The Sign of Four: _The yellow glare from the shop-windows streamed out into the steamy, vaporous air, and threw a murky, shifting radiance across the crowded thoroughfare. There was, to my mind, something eerie and ghost-like in the endless procession of faces_

As we continued, I thought no more of my observation, until I realised I had become one of that crowd. I watched as Holmes turned around, surprised at having lost touch with me. He put out his hand, and, although I could see him quite clearly, it became quickly apparent that he could not see me. I forced my way through the crowd until I was no further than a foot in front of Holmes’ face.

Then he realised where I was, and reached out to touch me, but his fingers slid through my arm. We both gave an involuntary start at this. His expression of anguish cut me to the quick.

He thought quickly. “Can you follow me?” he asked.

My voice was nothing but a whisper, blown away as soon as it left my mouth. I nodded instead, but unsure how well he could see me, I bowed, and he saw that, for he said, “Good!” 

He turned around and walked back to Baker Street, and I followed him as closely as I could. There was such a crowd of other ghostly beings that I was somewhat jostled, but steadfastly continued in the direction I knew he was taking.

Once back in our rooms, it was clear Holmes could not see me at all. I sat in my usual armchair and, by dint of blowing hard, disturbed the papers sufficiently he realised where I was. 

He sat opposite me, and said, “Watson, I have no idea what has happened. But believe me, I will not rest until I have recovered you in your correct form.”


	2. Grotesque

Holmes devoted the better part of the evening to reading sections of various books. He did not speak to me, but I could not tell whether this was because he couldn’t see me, or whether he was simply engrossed, when in the normal course of things I could have danced a gavotte in the middle of our rooms and he still wouldn’t have acknowledged my presence. Finally, I retired to my bedroom, where, much to my surprise, I soon fell asleep.

I admit I had hoped, when I went down for breakfast the following morning, that I would have resumed my normal corporeal form. However, having had to take sudden evasive action to prevent Bessie from walking straight through me, I realised this was not the case. I took my seat at the breakfast table and looked rather sadly at the tea she had poured.

I reached out my hand but was unable to lift the cup. Frustrated, I lent down and tried to drink the tea while the cup remained on the table. Much to my surprise, I succeeded in drinking half a cup before I couldn’t reach any more.

“Here, let me top your cup up,” Holmes said. While it was obvious he still couldn’t see me, he had clearly worked out where I was sitting, and was looking at me with a most curious air. If I could, I would have told him I objected at being considered a fascinating case, as it was, I had to satisfy myself with glaring at him without him seeing.

“Can you eat?” Holmes asked.

I bent down and took a piece of toast with my teeth. I tried to hold it in my fingers, and succeeded in pressing a finger into the butter, but was unable to grasp it and it fell back on the plate. Holmes cut the toast into what as children we had referred to as soldiers, which made it slightly easier for me to eat. He then speared a piece of bacon on a fork and offered it to me. I succeeded in taking and eating it. He repeated this exercise a few more times, after which I realised I was no longer hungry. I drank some more of the tea, and then stood up and moved over to my armchair.

I was not sure whether Holmes had realised I had moved, but he said, “There is a slight indentation of the cushion, Watson, so I am assuming you are in your armchair.” He frowned, and then added, “It would be helpful if I could keep track of where you are.”

He headed into his bedroom, and returned shortly afterwards with his bed sheet. I had very little time to discover what he intended to do with it before I discovered his plan. He had thrown the sheet over me!

To say I was not impressed would be an understatement. I was just contemplating what I should do about it when Mrs Hudson came in to remove the breakfast tray.

Her first words were, “Mr Holmes, what have you done to the poor doctor this time?”

I heard her footsteps approaching my chair, but Holmes hurriedly said, “A temporary matter, Mrs Hudson, but one I fear may be too grotesque for your delicate feelings. It would be better if you left him as he is.”

I listened as she loaded the tray and then as she was leaving, I heard her say, “Very well, Mr Holmes, but I expect to see the doctor back in his usual state by this evening,” before she stomped out.

After she had gone, Holmes removed the sheet again. “It appears it will cause fewer problems if you are not covered up. I assume you will take adequate precautions since you cannot be seen.”

Confident that I couldn’t be seen I pulled a face and then stuck my tongue out at Holmes.


	3. Frustrations

Holmes spent the morning in a repetition of his actions from the evening before. Occasionally he would make a satisfied sound as presumably he’d found something which looked promising and he would jot the idea down. But then five minutes later he would angrily scratch it out and begin again.

He then began to berate me for getting myself into the situation and accuse me of carelessness, which, while I realise was a response to his great concern, did nothing for my own well-being. It wasn’t as if I could recall any particular incident which might have caused it. And even if I had, I had no idea how I would communicate the fact to Holmes.

Finally, I gave up and returned to my own room. As I departed, I heard Holmes continue to speak to me as if I were still seated in my armchair. Proof, if I had needed it, that he was emotionally upset, since for once he had failed to observe the sign of my departure.

A little later when Mrs Hudson enquired whether we would be requiring luncheon, Holmes replied he was too busy to stop for such irrelevancies. Mrs Hudson retorted that while Holmes could do what he liked, as she was sure he would, she wasn’t seeing the poor doctor go hungry.

Accordingly, about an hour later, a plate of food arrived for me. To my surprise, Holmes seemed quite happy to help me with eating it and between the two of us we managed to clear most of the plate, so Mrs Hudson was slightly mollified.

Shortly after that there was a knock on the door, and Inspector Stanley Hopkins entered. Hastily, I got out of my chair, in case Hopkins should decide to sit in it.

Hopkins greeted Holmes warmly and then said, “Sorry, Doctor Watson, I didn’t see you standing there.”


	4. Hopkins Takes Charge

“What!” Holmes exclaimed.

Hopkins gave him a strange look, before turning back towards me. His expression changed. “Ah,” he said, “you can’t see the doctor, can you? I did think he looked a little different when I first saw him, but now I know why.”

“Can you hear me, too?” I asked in a whisper, scarcely daring to hope he could.

“You are very faint,” he replied.

“Is that better?” I asked, speaking at my normal volume. Holmes still didn’t appear to be able to hear anything.

“Oh much,” Hopkins said. “You sound like you’re encased in a layer of cloth, but I can still hear you quite clearly.”

“But how is it possible you can see and hear Watson, but neither I, nor anyone else, can do so?” Holmes asked.

“That would make quite a long tale, and one for which we do not have time at the moment,” Hopkins answered. “When did this begin?”

“Between quarter and half past seven yesterday evening,” Holmes said. “I cannot be more precise, since I do not know at what exact point Watson changed.”

“Either way, it doesn’t give us very long. It is now half past three, so let us say we have until seven o’clock for safety’s sake. You do know approximately where it occurred.”

“Yes,” I replied. “I could take you to the exact spot. I have been giving it some considerable thought.”

Hopkins nodded, and forestalled Holmes’ words by saying, “The doctor can take us there. First of all, you two must stay together. No, Mr Holmes, there is no point in arguing. There may be few areas where I have more experience than you, but this is one of them.”

“Very well.”

“Now, Dr Watson, are you wearing the same jacket and waistcoat you were wearing yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“Could you give them to me?”

I removed the two garments and passed them over to Hopkins, hoping that he would not request my trousers as well. He looked carefully at them, but apparently without success, because he returned them to me.

“Where is your overcoat and hat?” he asked.

“I left them in my room,” I said. “Shall I get them for you?”

“Yes, please.”

“Hopkins, do I need to go too?” Holmes asked.

“No, so long as you both remain in the same building that will be sufficient.”

I returned and handed my hat and coat to Hopkins. Holmes watched, clearly reasoning where the garments were, without being able to see anything. 

Hopkins felt around under the collar, and finally said, “Ah, I have it.” He held aloft a sprig of what looked like rosemary. “I presume you normally hang your coat in the corner on the coat stand.”

“Yes!”

Hopkins considered the herb, rubbed it between his fingers and said, “Did you have any visitors two days ago?”

“Both Bradstreet and Lestrade called in during the afternoon,” I said. 

Hopkins shook his head. “I doubt it was either of them.”

“I had a client in the morning. Watson was in his room. He had returned about six in the morning and seemed to feel he needed some rest,” Holmes said,

“I had been up most of the night with a patient, who had pulled through, and I felt justified in grabbing a few hours of sleep,” I said, with a certain amount of force.

Hopkins smiled at this. “Who was your client?” he asked Holmes.

“A Mr Walter Williamson. A very minor matter, I solved it on the spot. But surely you don’t think he is responsible?”

“He was most certainly involved, although I think it unlikely he was the instigator.”

“But surely my predicament could not be caused by a mere man,” I objected.

“Oh no, but whoever wished to cause you, or Mr Holmes, harm, while in all probability of flesh and blood themselves, clearly has access to certain forms of magic.


	5. Watson Returned

Hopkins considered for a moment, and then said, “Mr Holmes, do you know where Walter Williamson lives?”

“He told me he was renting rooms in Manette Street,” Holmes replied.

I gave a start, which Hopkins observed, for he said, “Close to where you transformed, I presume?”

“Yes, very close by.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. I suggest we make Manette Street our first port of call, although I am not too hopeful of success there. However, it would be better if we are.”

We took up our hats and overcoats and followed Hopkins outside. 

Holmes went to hail a cab, but Hopkins shook his head. 

“You think Watson could be in danger in a cab?” Holmes asked.

“Not necessarily, but he will be less vulnerable on foot. I would suggest you take the lead, Dr Watson can walk by your side, and I will walk by his.”

We set off in this fashion, and it was not long before a cab slowed down. 

“You gents looking for a lift?” the cabbie called.

“No, thank you,” Holmes called back. “We need some exercise, having been indoors all day.”

“Fair enough, guv.”

The taxi sped up again and did not tout for trade with anyone else who was walking down the pavement.

Soon, we turned into the maze of streets which led the way to Manette Street. Hopkins relaxed a little, and I concluded he believed I was safe for the moment. Safe from what, I was not sure, but that I might be in further danger, I did not doubt.

When we reached our destination, Holmes quickly identified the house where Williamson had claimed to be living. A card in the window, advertising a room to let, meant we were dubious of success when Holmes knocked on the door. Our doubts were confirmed when the door was answered and the woman confirmed that Williamson, or whatever other name he chose to go under, had done a midnight flit.

After she had shut the door, Holmes turned to Hopkins. “What now?” he demanded.

“It depends on how closely Dr Watson can identify the spot where it happened,” Hopkins replied. “And I must ask you both to do exactly what I ask.”

I could sense Holmes’ reluctance, but eventually he nodded and said, “Very well!”

“Thank you, Mr Holmes. Then, Dr Watson, it is up to you.”

“This way,” I said. 

As I began to walk, I once again became aware of ghostly beings around me. Nevertheless, I pressed on, until I had reached the spot where I had begun to change that previous evening.

“Mr Holmes,” Hopkins said. “I am standing directly in front of the doctor. When I say so, I want you to put out your right arm as if to prevent him from falling backwards. At the same time, I will take a step forward towards the doctor, and I need you to protect me from your side. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Holmes said. “I’m ready.”

Hopkins slipped out of his pocket the sprig of herb he had earlier found in my overcoat collar. “Now!” he said.

Holmes put out an arm to catch me and turned to use his body to protect Hopkins. As he did so, I noticed a number of my ghostly brethren reaching out their arms as if to grab hold of us. Hopkins lunged forward, aiming the sprig of herb directly at my heart.

Instantly, I felt faint and would have fallen to the ground if Holmes’ arm had not been in place. At the same time, the ghostly visions receded, and I became conscious of a young couple who had been walking by asking if I was all right.

Hopkins, too, reached out an arm to me, and thanked them for their concern, but said I had been recently unwell and had overdone things slightly. They offered to call us a cab, which Hopkins declined in preference for some air.

When I was feeling less wobbly, Hopkins said, “Do you feel up to walking back to Baker Street? I would be happier if you could continue to avoid cabs for the rest of the day.”

“Yes, so long as we do not walk too briskly,” I replied.

By the time we had reached Baker Street, I was feeling very hungry, and aware I had hardly eaten anything for the previous twenty-four hours. I was concerned Mrs Hudson would not take kindly to making a substantial supper, but she was so pleased to see I was recovered she made no objection whatsoever.

We invited Hopkins to join us for our meal, but he declined, saying he still had one or two matters to attend to. I saw Holmes give him a curious look, but he merely shook his head and declined to elucidate. He did, however, assure us that so long as I had a quiet evening, I should be none the worse for my adventure.

I did justice to the supper, and then Holmes and I sat in our armchairs, sipping a glass of brandy each. 

“I am very glad to be able to see you again, my dear Watson,” Holmes said.

“I too, am delighted at my reversal to my previous self,” I replied. “But I have to admit, I am very curious as to what happened to me, and how Hopkins alone was able to see me.”

“Yes. I wonder whether he will explain it to us. Although I fear this will join the Giant Rat as another tale for which the world is not yet prepared.”


End file.
